Three Days of Activity (2)
While Ilhyang was at the market, Ihyang and Samhyang were running errands for the head maid.
They bowed their heads to everyone they passed on the street, greeting them politely.
"Hello~"
"You're working hard again today~"
Each time, the people returned the greetings.
"Yes, yes!"
"Th-thank you."
Unlike Ihyang and Samhyang, who greeted everyone so naturally, the young men didn't know what to do with themselves. Ihyang and Samhyang gave them small smiles. Their faces instantly flushed bright red, and they quickly averted their eyes.
"If there's anything you want to eat, just let us know anytime, okay?"
"Oh! And since it's Ilhyang unnie's day to go to the market, the head maid said everyone should come to the youngest young master's residence tonight to pick up some late-night snacks. You can have dinner there too, while you're at it."
"Really?"
"Yes. You all work harder than anyone else behind the scenes. You need to eat well to stay strong."
The man who'd just asked bowed his head.
"Thank you, always. You don't have to do this."
"Ho ho."
Ihyang laughed. Once again, the young men stared at her intently. Ihyang assumed it was because of the snacks she'd brought. She pulled out the treats wrapped in her skirt folds.
"I brought some simple snacks. Eat them if you're not too busy."
Gurgle.
Just then, one of the young men's stomachs growled.
In the Namgung Clan estate, everyone gathered at the communal dining hall during mealtimes. There was an unwritten rule about the order of eating. First, the clan's executives ate. Then the regular warriors. After that, guests, visitors, and trainees. And finally, the estate's laborers and handymen.
No matter how much food they prepared, it was always short by the end.
One of the young men reached out but hesitated. He'd only had two spoonfuls of rice soaked in water for lunch that day. Seeing Ihyang's snacks made his stomach react without his control.
It was well-known that the food made by the youngest young master's maids was tastier than what the estate's chefs whipped up.
Ihyang was putting them away when—gurgle—she suddenly grabbed the young man's hand.
"H-hey!"
The young man startled and tried to pull away, but Ihyang held both his hands firmly.
The others shot him envious glances.
Gurgle. The young man hung his head.
Ihyang piled his hands full of treats.
"These turned out especially tasty today."
"Th-thank you, Ihyang-nim."
"Ihyang-nim? I'm just a lowly maid. Fancy talk like that doesn't suit me."
"No, you're more than worthy of it, Ihyang-nim. In terms of... character and appearance, even more so!"
"Ho ho! My, you're laying it on thick today."
The young man muttered as he stuffed the treats into his pocket.
"It's true, though..."
The other young men eyed him jealously, and Samhyang grinned at them.
"There's plenty more~ Line up, everyone."
It wasn't exactly what they wanted, but they queued up eagerly anyway. Ihyang soon joined Samhyang, handing out the snacks.
The first young man who'd received some sat in a corner, staring blankly at his grimy, work-worn hands and muttering to himself.
"...So soft."
* * *
Ilhyang returned from the market, laden with bags.
"Oof, my back."
The old man thumped his hunched back as he set the load down in the courtyard, then patted his waist. Anyone could tell he was faking it. His eyes slyly drifted toward the kitchen.
Ilhyang blocked his path.
"Not again! Not again! Not again!"
The old man flicked his gaze elsewhere and spoke up.
"What? Did I do something wrong? I was just checking if the head maid was there. Can't a guy peek a little without you treating him like a thief? Go ahead, catch me!"
"Then go look yourself! Why skulk around like a thief with your eyes all bugged out like a flounder?"
"Wh-when did I?!"
"Just now!"
At that moment, the head maid emerged from the kitchen.
"If you're making a racket, Ilhyang must be back. Thinking about it, you had a lot of stuff. I should have gone with you. My thinking was too short-sighted. Was the money enough?"
Ilhyang replied politely, as if she hadn't just scolded the old man.
"Yes, there was even some left over."
"Good. Glad to hear it. But you couldn't have carried all this alone, and it sounded like you were talking to someone. Or were you just talking to yourself?"
Ilhyang glanced to the side.
"No! The courtyard grandpa helped carry it and was right here... Huh?"
The perverted old geezer—who'd been thumping his back all hunched over just moments ago—was nowhere to be seen.
"No one's there."
"That's weird. He was just here with the courtyard grandpa."
"Tsk tsk. You're too young to be seeing things already? I told you to eat better. Let's move these market goods to the kitchen. You invited everyone for tonight, right?"
"Yes. Ihyang and Samhyang will have spread the word properly."
"Good. Let's hurry and prepare the food. Those folks don't have it easy like us, serving the youngest young master in comfort. They're the ones who work the hardest in the estate. All we can do for them is this much, so let's give it our all."
"Yes, Head Maid!"
* * *
Namgung Je-cheon had been racking his brains for hours on how to win them over. But nothing good came to mind.
"They're perfect for the youngest young master right now."
A force that belonged to no one. Their status was... a bit off-putting, but their lineup made that irrelevant.
Their martial arts weren't top-tier, but satisfactory enough. And above all, some had pasts that demanded persuasion at any cost.
If they sided with the youngest young master, it'd be like gaining a heavenly army.
"Haa..."
Namgung Je-cheon let out a deep sigh and wrote a single character on a sheet of white paper.
Wu (Martial).
"The problem is that they're all martial artists."
The best way to persuade martial artists was with strength. That was why Namgung Je-cheon didn't like them much.
Brutish, uncouth, trying to solve everything with raw power.
"The issue is..."
They were all wounded souls, somehow. Whatever their pasts, the current era called them has-beens.
Namgung Je-cheon pulled out another paper, densely packed with names.
Figures whose names alone rang bells in the martial world.
"Right! Let's take it step by step. Start with something that'll appeal to them."
He rose from the seat he'd occupied all day. As he moved to kick open the door—
Gurgle.
"First, grab some food from the sisters! Can't work on an empty stomach when it's all about eating to live. Oh, and snacks too. Wait—gotta grab gifts for the sisters."
Namgung Je-cheon turned back into the strategy hall, heading to a sturdy iron vault on one side. A chill emanated from the metal—it wasn't ordinary iron.
He removed a key-shaped necklace from around his neck, inserted it into the vault, and turned.
Creeeak, clank, rumble rumble, whirrr!Pffft!
With a cacophony, the door swung open. A sharp, refreshing fragrance filled the room.
Namgung Je-cheon casually scanned the interior, grabbed a handful of hwandan pills, closed the vault, and headed to the youngest young master's residence.
Upon arriving, Namgung Je-cheon was stunned by the unexpected scene.
"What is this?"
"Oh! The vice strategist is here too?"
Why were they all gathered here?
"Sisters? What's going on?"
"Ah~~"
Ilhyang set down the food in her hands on the table. Then a pack of... well, not quite hyenas, but with eyes just like them—surged toward the dishes.
The trays full of food vanished in an instant.
Ilhyang paused mid-answer and turned.
"Vice Strategist, sit here first."
Then Ihyang shoved past him, hands full of food.
"Out of the way! Don't block the path. Vice Strategist, what are you doing? Sit down already!"
"Ah, yes."
Samhyang pushed him next.
"Not here! Go sit in that empty spot over there."
"Yes, yes!"
Namgung Je-cheon plopped down in a daze. The others didn't even greet him—they just kept stuffing their faces.
"Didn't expect to see such a high-ranking lord here. What brings you?"
Someone spoke from behind. The voice carried a sharp edge.
Namgung Je-cheon turned to see who it was.
This man!
He composed himself without showing it and replied.
"Came for some food. Grabbing snacks too, while I'm at it."
The old man eyed him warily.
Why?
As far as Namgung Je-cheon knew, this man didn't concern himself with others anymore, whatever his past.
"Tsk tsk. The food here's good, alright. Eat your fill, Vice Strategist, then go. Sorry for the misunderstanding."
"Um, but..."
Then—
"Hey! Perverted old man! I told you, if you block the way here, you trip me every time!"
Namgung Je-cheon's eyes widened.
Oh no, the sister is in danger!
He had to protect Ilhyang unnie from this old man right now.
She'll fall victim to his grasp!
Namgung Je-cheon started to rise—
Thud.
But what happened next made him sit right back down.
"Come on, perverted old man, that's not cool."
The old man scrunched his already wrinkled face even more in a pitiful plea.
That guy? Am I seeing this right?
"I saw it all! Right? Ihyang."
"Yeah, yeah. I saw everything. Right? Samhyang."
"I saw it too. Isn't that right? Head Maid?"
"Wait! Why drag the head maid into this? Just move aside, just move!"
How did this situation even arise? A former absolute power of the martial world, once the pride of the central plains. He was said to have died long ago.
"Aw~ You're not sulking, are you?"
"Me? Dare to? Over something this trivial?"
"I asked the head maid subtly earlier."
"Wh-wh-what did you ask?!"
Stuttering too? Him?
"Whether it'd be okay as a lover even if he's old and missing an arm. No matter what, the head maid has an age too—she can't live alone forever."
Gulp.
The old man's swallow echoed loudly. No one said a word, as if by agreement.
"And?"
The old man glanced at one spot—the head maid.
Ilhyang whispered, loud enough for all to hear.
"It's a secret~ she said."
Laughter erupted everywhere!
"Hahaha! Knew it!"
"Kekeke. Should've known better than to hope."
"Shot down."
"Totally rejected."
"Brutally dumped."
"Gotta have some conscience. Look at the age gap."
"Amitabha."
"Uh... that might be crossing the line..."
The old man approached the middle-aged man who'd chanted Amitabha. The man's face paled.
"Uh... old timer? Weird. Must be the booze talking. Haha! Have a drink!"
"You mocking me for having one arm too?"
"When did I say that?!"
The middle-aged man looked around pleadingly. Murmurs rose.
"They say drunks can't even recognize their parents. Tsk tsk."
"I'd have said Muryangsujeong instead."
"You mocking Wudang just now?"
"Why let that slide?!"
"Oh, the calamity! What a mess."
"Calamity? Mocking the imperial palace?"
"How about 'long live the emperor'?"
It was... somewhat harmonious, in its own way.
"Old timer, stop scaring the other uncles and sit down already."
"Tch! Fine."
The man once called Unrivaled. Former Shaolin head, representative of the central plains martial world. For some reason, he'd lost an arm, left Shaolin in shock, gone beyond the borders, founded an assassin group, committed countless murders, and vanished.
Defrocked monk Ilseon Dosa.
Who could've guessed he'd be treated like a perverted old geezer here?
Good grief.
Shaolin would flip if they knew—enough to make Buddha himself turn his palm over in exasperation.